This is me…juggling. (A bonus sport for my 60th year).

If it weren’t for Jeff Askew bringing juggling balls to Thanksgiving, I might never have experienced the prolonged frustration and momentary triumph of tossing three balls in the air.

We wondered, during those waning days of November, whether juggling might end up being one of the six new sports I intended to learn.

“Is juggling a sport?” I asked with the impertinence (though not the maintenance) of youth.

An iron man competitor who used to juggle while waterskiing backwards for a delighted national audience, Jeff answered mildly.

“I mean, I think it could count,” he said.

He gave me a quick, but thorough lesson, because it had been an especially busy Thanksgiving, what with an engagement announcement and all. We crammed a lot into the few hours before Jeff had to hit the road, but I didn’t feel like I made much progress. Jeff is a patient sensei. I just could not find the rhythm of those tosses.

At home, I practiced with rolled up socks as I stood over our bed (so I didn’t have to chase errant balls all over the family room floor). I gave myself pep talks that went something like this.

“Who’s idea was this anyway?”

At one point, I just gave up.

Then, during a Facetime call with my adorable granddaughter Margo, I spotted her mother juggling in the background.

“Hey!” I said to my son. “Is Tara juggling?”

She was. It turned out she had been paying attention during my Thanksgiving lessons.

For Christmas, my adorable granddaughter Margo gave me two sets of juggling balls and a juggling-themed Christmas ornament.

I panicked.

“I can’t hang an ornament on our Christmas tree that commemorates a skill I failed to acquire!” I passionately explained to my husband.

He shrugged. He tends to under react to my emotional outbursts.

“You don’t have to learn to juggle,” he said, maddeningly reasonable.

Of course, I had to learn to juggle.

I kept that ornament in our kitchen after I’d put all the others away, and I glared at it from time to time. What can I say? Comfort is the enemy of progress.

Periodically, I began tossing the balls around again.

Eventually, I got the hang of the rhythm.

Jeff says I’m not a juggler until I can toss the balls so consistently I don’t even think about it.

I still think about every toss. So, I’m not a juggler.

But, I am a longtime Greatest Showman Fan. I have watched the This is Me rehearsal video about a thousand times and I still cry every time.

I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me

So, this is me. I am going to keep working on the juggling, though.